RIP, My Angel (HQ's Revenge Prequel)
by Wizadora123
Summary: With Joker gone, how will Harley Quinn survive alone in a place like Arkham City? ' "don't say a word... momma's gonna buy you a... a..." Her sentence trailed off as she looked again at the pregnancy tests, all but one reading negative. She'd never felt so alone before. Her last chance of holding onto part of Mr. J was extinguished.' Immediate game end- a prequel to HQ's Revenge.
1. Chapter 1

Harley sat bolt upright. It was no use- she couldn't sleep. Her hand shook underneath the red sheet on the bed, and she drew her face into her chest, trying to compress her sobs. She shuddered, a cold chill racing up her back. She hadn't bothered to change upon their return from the theatre; what would be the point? She'd only have to get dressed again tomorrow.

Harley glanced at the cot in the corner of the room, illuminated only by the glare of police helicopters raging above Arkham City. They'd come for her soon, she was sure. They would barge in here with their guns and their brawn and drag her back to that horrible place.  
Harley hated her cell in Arkham; it was cold and dark and smelled like old socks. She thought about how lonely she'd be and shuddered. At one time she'd had a friend in there- his name was Mr. Wesker and he'd been a ventriloquist. He would make Harley laugh when she was missing her Puddin' by using his skills to make it sound as if the guards were saying funny things. Harley had been very sad when he'd been transferred to Blackgate and declared 'sane'. He was probably here in Arkham City- just like Red was- but she hadn't seen him yet. She wished he was here now.

Harley hadn't thought much about the police taking her in until that moment- she'd only wanted her puddin' back. She had slumped to the floor screaming outside the Monarch theatre, and would never have moved were it not for Spider, the Joker's semi-favourite henchman, lifting her and poking her back towards the steel mill before Gordon's cops could swarm. There had been cheers as the entourage had walked in, but they soon diminished as it was realised that Joker wasn't with them. Harley had dragged herself up the stairs and into her and Mr. J's room, had lay down on the bed, and this was the first time she'd moved since.  
And where were the Hyenas?! They'd been missing for nearly a week. Poor Bud and Lou, out there all alone. Joker had laughed that they might have been devoured by Killer Croc, if he really was down in the sewers- since then, Harley hadn't been able to get the thought out of her mind. Poor Babies. Poor Joker.

Standing, Harley kicked at the scatter of failed pregnancy tests as she made her way over to the baby crib. Her mechanically designed boots crunched the glass screens of the pregnancy tests, making their ' - ' signs of failure less readable.  
"Out of sight, out of your mind," she whispered, quoting one of Joker's many warped sayings. He'd used that one when he'd blinded one of the prison guards at Arkham by gouging out his eyes with a plastic fork. The thought made Harley grimace slightly, but her Puddin' always knew what he was doing. That fork episode has got him a good few months in sollitary, so no-one could see his health deteriorating from the Titan formulae he'd subjected himself to that night when they'd taken over the asylum.  
Harley glanced at the outfit she'd worn- she'd managed to smuggle it out the night she and Joker had made their escape into Arkham City. The nurse-esque style seemed more appropriate here than back there- after all, she'd spent her time here in Arkham City trying her very best to help Joker get better. And it hadn't worked.

Silent tears began to roll down Harley's face as she attempted to put those thoughts aside, and reached down for the mutated ventriloquist's dummy sat inside the cot and cradled it in her arms.  
"Hushaby baby, on the tree top..." she sang a little less than half-heartedly, "don't say a word... momma's gonna buy you a... a..."  
Her sentence trailed off as she looked again at the pregnancy tests, all but one reading negative. She'd never felt so alone before. Her last chance of holding onto part of Mr. J was extinguished.

Harley let out a breathy sob and looked down at the doll in her arms. Mr. J had loved this puppet. Not more than he loved her, of course, but she sometimes felt strangely jealous when the two of them would sit together in the corner of the room, laughing raucously over some private joke Harley had no right to be involved with. She'd managed to get rid of the first one by 'dropping' him into a smelting vat. She had felt a little bit bad about it because Mr. Wesker had always talked about the puppet and Harley knew he'd be very upset about her killing him, but he had to go. He was more trouble than he was worth, and everybody knows three's a crowd in a relationship.  
Unfortunately for Harley, though, Mugsy Binks- some stick that'd been holed up at Blackgate Prison before being transferred over to Arkham City- showed up at the steel mill one day with a box full of 'em. Harley had carelessly destroyed the next one in a wood chipper, and by the time she'd accidentally set off a round of explosives downstairs, and in doing so destroyed the third of Mugsy's Scarfaces, she was quite sure her Puddin' was beginning to suspect something. She'd then found out that Mugsy's supply of puppets was in fact inexhaustible, as he'd been carving each one himself. Binks was swiftly sent away on a suicide mission to steal some supplies from Penguins men. Safe to say, no one had heard from Mugsy Binks since. He was either dead, Harley guessed, or Batman had got to him; maybe a bit of both.  
No more Mugsy. No more Scarface. Good riddance, she'd thought. But now, looking down at the limp puppet curled in her arms, she felt glad she hadn't gotten around to melting him with an acid flower or "accidentally" splintering him with her mallet.  
Harley blinked as she sat back down on the bed, still cradling the garishly-painted Scarface, and rocked him back and forth in her arms numbly.  
"Patta-cake, patty-cake, baker's man..."

There was a groan of metal and Harley raised her head to the door. She wiped away her mascara tears as it opened.  
"Harley?" Said a voice- Spider.  
"Oh- hi, Spider," Harley replied without looking at him- her eyes were welling.  
"You okay?" he asked, moving a string of brightly-coloured bunting from his eye line as to enter the room more easily.  
Harley stood, putting down her puppet without answering the question; she looked at Spider and smiled with as much strength as she could muster. She didn't want to- couldn't- talk about what had happened. It hurt enough to be thinking about it constantly.  
"Did you find my babies yet?" She said, setting Scarface delicately back down in his cot.  
"Urh... yeah. It's not good, Harley."  
"What's happened to them?!" Harley cried, her eyes beginning to stream again.  
The henchman shifted uneasily, clearly unsure how to word his response.  
"They got shot," Spider said eventually.  
There was a sickening pause for a moment, then Harley cracked.  
"Nooo!" She wailed, throwing herself face-down onto the quilt and sobbing again.  
"Oh, Bud, Lou! My poor babies... and- and my Puddin', my poor Puddin'! Why, Spider, why is this happening?!"  
"They're in the Penguin's museum," says Spider, awkwardly dismissing her question, "he's got 'em stuffed in one of them glass cage things he's got. We got inside and... there's one made for you. And one for Joker."  
"What?" Choked Harley, her face still buried in the covers. "W- what for?!"  
"Uhh... he was gonna stuff J or somethin', if he'd got his hands on him. And you... I dunno, said somethin' about minutes of entertainment or somethin' like that. Sommat about cuttin' your head off and- um- stickin' it on one of them intercom things you've got around the place."  
A choked mix of anger and tearfulness came from Harley as she briefly attempted to sit up. Failing, she flayed her arms against the bed sheets and lay atop them, exhausted.

Spider's footsteps cautiously crossed the room and the lock of the door clicked. Harley paid no attention, mentally tortured by the last few hours.

Or was it the last few days? The last few months?! Things seemed to have been getting worse day by day- Mr. J's illness, the babies disappearing, conditions in Arkham City. The men had begun to complain about the lack of real food; it seemed candy floss and corn dogs wasn't the most balanced diet. But it was all they had- food drop-offs were becoming less and less frequent, and the chances of actually acquiring the food was less than 50/50. With Penguin's Birds running around the place and the stragglers of Two-Face's old crew, not to mention the few guys around who'd kept themselves to themselves and not signed up with anybody, the Clown's food supply had been limited to only what had been looted from the various carts and stalls Joker had taken from the old Gotham fairground. J had laughed and said that the Hyenas were better off missing, as the men would only have eaten them anyway. At this Harley had become very paranoid and had questioned almost all of the Clowns via the Harley Head intercoms. The truth felt far worse.

"You okay?" Said Spider's voice, and Harley flinched, all but forgetting he was there.  
"Yeah," she lied into her fingerless gloves, "I'll be fine."  
"You sure?"  
"Yeah." It was harder to lie this time.  
"Good." Spider sat on the end of the bed, his hands held in his lap.  
"It must be hard for you," he said, placing a broad hand on Harley's shoulder.  
He was a tough-skinned man, with the hardened face to match and unforgiving features. The tendrils of a spider web tattoo climbed up his thick neck and down one muscular arm, giving him his nickname. A deep gash splintered his eyebrow, a scar from long ago. Joker had thrown a sharp-cornered metal alarm clock at him, Harley seemed to remember, after some crack about time flying when you're having fun.  
"Losing Joker," Spider said, bringing Harley back to the real world, "everything that's happened in the last few months..."  
"Hey!" exclaimed Harley, pulling away as she felt Spider's hand trail from her shoulder down to her waist, "what do you think you're-!"  
Without another word, the henchman grabbed hold of Harley and pulled her to him, smashing his lips against hers in a forceful kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

Harley, crushed against his chest, found for a few seconds that she couldn't react, too stunned to do anything. But the second realisation hit, she pushed away as hard as she could, pulling her lips back from the henchman's, but his own followed her path, his hand locked across the back of her neck so that she found it impossible to pull away. Angry and desperate, Harley dug her chewed-down nails into the t-shirt fabric of the Henchman, digging into his skin so that he finally released her.  
"Get off me!" She screamed, pulling herself up from the bed and drawing away defensively, "you come up here and try to make a move on me, and my Puddin' hasn't even gone cold yet! Get out!"  
"Calm down, Harley," Spider said matter-of-factly, but Harley screams over the top of him.  
"I'm serious, Spider!"  
"So am I," the clown said darkly.  
Harley stopped dead for a second, staring at him. A thousand emotions bubbled inside of her, unhealthy, strangled emotions that she had supressed for years. She'd never needed them with Joker by her side.  
"How dare you?!" She spat at him, "how dare you come into our home and try somethin' like that?! You think just because J's gone you can do whatever the hell you want?!"  
Spider laughed, his demeanour becoming darker.  
"Yeah, actually," he smirked, "what were you expectin' was gonna happen when the Clown died?"  
Harley stared at him, some ugly monster rearing its head in her belly. Another demon she'd been fighting.  
"What," continued the henchman, "that suddenly all the guys are gonna find some sort a' respect for you?!" He laughed again, mirthful spite in his venomous voice.  
"You really think you could ever be in charge here? The only reason anyone's put up with you this long is because you're a bit of eye candy around the place. These are Joker's men, not yours. No-one here signed up under some stupid bimbo."  
Harley frowned, her speech stunted.  
"Let me tell you, Harley, there ain't one person in this God-damn city that don't see you for what you are- just some dumb bitch who's too big for her boots. Joker's dumb blonde bitch. That's all you ever were to him, and that's all you're ever gonna be."  
"You're wrong!" Harley screamed, tears threatening her vision, "my Puddin' loved me! He loved me more than anything! We- we were gonna get married! As soon as he'd killed the stupid Bat, we were gonna get married!"  
Spider scoffed again, raising his eyebrows at her.  
"Bullshit," he exclaimed. "D'you seriously believe that? You honestly believe that crazy bastard loved you? The only thing your 'puddin' loved was himself, and maybe Batman."  
"That's not true!"  
"Face the facts, Harley. You meant nothing to him. You were just a chew toy, something for him to play with when there was nothing good on the Disney Channel."  
"He watches Cartoon Network," Harley said quietly, shaking slightly as she absorbed all that had just been said to her. It wasn't true, none of it. It couldn't be true.  
There was silence for a few seconds, all but the fading tune of the Harley Head intercom of which Batman had cruelly blown the head off.  
Harley felt tears of frustration spilling from her eyes as she turned her back on the henchman and stared out at the burning city before her. There seemed to be even more helicopters now, many of them circling the flaming remains of Wonder Tower. Harley could see the roof of the Monarch Theatre, where it had happened. A dozen cop cars were parked outside, their lights glaring blue and red. It made Harley feel physically sick.  
Then something happened that made her feel even worse.

She felt his arms creep around her waist. Harley tugged away and pulled at his arms, but he wouldn't let go.  
"Get off," she said, surprisingly calmly for the state she was in. He ignored her, gripping tighter and burying his face into the side of her neck, and began to kiss it roughly.  
"Stop it!" Harley cried, trying to force herself out of the man's grip, but he continued to disregard her cries, pulling her tighter, his clammy hand working at her waist.  
Harley screamed, screamed as loud as she could, and a laugh came from the henchman.  
"You think anyone's coming to save you?" He said huskily, then he turned Harley sharply and pushed her face-first onto the bed. She screamed again, more of a roar than a cry for help this time, then flipped over and struck him in the chest with her boot when he tried to pounce. He hardly seemed to notice, pinning her down despite her best efforts to prevent such from happening, his hands fumbling all over her to untie buckles and straps, to slip between fabric and find her skin. Harley managed to strike him across his greedy face with one of the jagged bangles around her wrists, and he faltered for a second. She used the opportunity to escape from the bed, but in a moment she felt a thick hand tug at her ankle and she was sent crashing to the floor. Papers and pens bounced from Joker's desk as Harley struggled to get away from the henchman, who was already upon her. She hit him again, and he gave some sort of growl before striking her back, right across the face. She was stunned for a moment, but she'd put up with far worse than a single hit and wasn't about to give in so easily like some defenceless girl. Scrambling backwards, Harley's armoured boot kicked out at her old costume, circled by a halo of stage lights, and the mannequin began to quiver. Seeing a chance for a few seconds delay, Harley kicked out at it again, purposely this time, and it began to topple, right on top of the henchman. Those few seconds were all Harley needed, and she was up on her feet searching for a weapon before Spider even knew he'd been hit.  
Frantic, Harley's eyes fell on only one object; a present from Mr. J, crafted by Mugsy Binks before his 'unfortunate' disappearance. An oversized wooden mallet, painted in a dizzying swirl of purple, red and green, propped against the far wall. She hadn't thought much of it when he had given it to her, preferring to use her white-and-red striped baseball bat instead- in fact, it hadn't left it's position against the wall since she'd been given it. Now, though, it was calling to her.  
In less than a second she had it in her grip, and stood above the henchman who was now getting to his feet, ready to go after her again. Before he had the chance, she swung the mighty hammer and brought it straight down across the back of his head with all the force she could muster. It took a second, but the blood ran from his large face and he dropped like a ten ton weight, sprawling out on the floor, face buried in the wooden panelling.  
Harley stood over him a moment, his great hulking mass now degraded and completely unthreatening. Harley shook her head, then turned her back on him and bent down to prop her fallen mannequin back on its dazzling stage. The boots had fallen and the mask unwound, but Harley replaced them to their rightful positions swiftly. Then she took up her hammer again, sat down on the edge of the rumpled bed and lay it firmly across her lap, examining its array of colour and careful design. On one face was painted the grin of a clown, on the other was a message, messily hand-engraved into the surface.  
To my favourite little Harlequin.  
Lots of love, Mr. J  
A small smiley face was carved underneath the image. Harley reflected it upon her own features, tears streaming her face once more. She traced her fingers across the little carved smile and breathed.  
"See?" She sighed contently, "I told you he loves me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

**The Clowns**

A short hiss of breath came from the unconscious brute and Harley glanced up from her gift momentarily.

"You still alive?" She huffed disapointedly.

A faint groan came from the henchman, and Harley sighed faintly.

"I'm disappointed with you, Spider," she said, standing and moving back over to the man, then swung back her new favorite toy and smashed him across the head with it. The man's fall to unconsciousness was almost instantaneous, and his breathing became shuddering and labored.

"You were one of Mr. J's favorites," Harley continued as if nothing had happened, "and now look at you. If my Jokey knew about this, he would be so mad. Why, he'd kick your ass then- then dip you in and out of acid for a week until all your skin melted off like jelly. He'd- he'd chop off your balls, puree them in a blender then spoon feed them to you."

She looked back down at his hulking frame, and gave a swift kick to his groin with her steel-tipped boot. Even in his unconscious state he groaned.

"Not that there'd be much to puree."

The man gave another groan and Harley whacked him with the hammer once more.

"Hushaby baby- go to sleep!" She screamed at him, and his body became flaccid again, lolling about the floor.

She turned her head to the door, beyond which she knew a couple of hundred of Joker's men would be sleeping.

_just some dumb bitch who's too big for her boots._

Is that really what they all thought of her? That she was just Joker's sidekick? Sure, Mr. J had always been the Boss, but she'd always had power, too; in charge of big jobs, giving Joker's orders. She'd practically been in charge whilst the J-man was sick. Did they really think she couldn't be a leader?

Well, she'd prove them wrong; all of them. She could do it. She_ would _do it. She'd show them just what Harley Quinn, Clown Princess could do. She owed that to herself- she owed it to Mr. J.

Dragging the limp body of Spider to the bunting-covered doorway, Harley kicked one of the doors open. She could see the two hundred or so men gathered below, all in shock at Joker's sudden demise. Some were asleep, but most were just sat around, huddled together and whispering. With one swift shove, Harley kicked the body of the unconscious henchman out from the doorway and sent him crashing to the ground. Even above the chatter, she could still hear the satisfying crack as his body met concrete. Good, she thought. Hope his spine's broken.

One guy screamed from below as he just missed the line of fire, and the assembly came to life.

"Alright, ya clowns!" Harley roared, and two hundred heads turned to her aid. She skimmed each one, but to no avail.

"Where's Mr. Hammer?!" she screeched, but was met with only silence.

"Abramovici!" she screamed, "where is he?!"

Nervously from the front, one of the smaller guys answered her. "he…" his sentence trailed off, and someone else picked it up for him, a worn-looking henchman of Italian decent wearing a brown vest and long forgotten clown makeup.

"He left."

"What?" Harley demanded, unable to believe her ears.

"He's gone," the henchman concluded, "met up with his brother, that's how I heard it. No-one's seen him since."

Harley turned, full of rage, and threw herself back into the room. She could hear Spider beginning to moan from the pit below as she pulled open drawers and threw papers from the desks. Underneath some of Mr. J's paperwork, she found an abused-looking hand Bazooka; quickly she kissed the side of it and sprang back out of the front doors. A small group had congregated around spider, though no-one was attempting to help him as such.

"Move your asses if you don't wanna get roasted!" she screamed from above, pulling back the safety on the heavy weapon and aiming down into the middle of the crowd. The henchmen immediately scattered in a flustered panic, and Spider looked up in his immobile state and begged for mercy.

"Nighty-night, sweetie," Harley called down, and with great force popped the trigger, a finger in one ear and her shoulder shielding the other.

Instead of a thunderous bang and a fiery explosion, the gun expelled a cork on a string with a smiley face painted on its front. Harley shook the weapon, as if this might change its purpose as a joke weapon, then screamed and threw it away from her in anger. It clocked one of the Clowns on the side of the head and he dropped like a ton of bricks.

"Who's got a gun?!" Harley demanded, eyes searching the crowd. The majority of them were carrying weapons, that she knew, but they all seemed too terrified to do anything about it. The henchman who'd told Harley of Mr. Hammer's whereabouts pushed the smaller man in front of him out of the group, and he quickly removed a small handgun from the pocket of his zip-up.

"Now boys, LISTEN UP! Your little friend down there thought it'd be just honky-dory for him to put his greasy little hands on Mr. J's merchandise. One of you shoot him for me," Harley ordered sweetly, pulling down on each of her pigtails in succession.

The henchman looked down at spider for a second, seemingly petrified by the idea. Harley waited impatiently, rocking back and forth on her tip-toes. The henchman who'd pushed the boy forwards in the first place took a step forwards, pulled the gun from the small boy and unhitched the weapon's safety, adjusted the chamber and fired a bullet between Spider's legs. Harley grinned.

"Creative," she sang. "I like it."

"FUCK!" Spider screamed, arching his deformed spine against the concrete floor and roaring in agony. Harley gave a surprised, happy little laugh and clapped her hands together. The henchman who'd shot Spider looked up at her for confirmation to go on. Harley chewed the nail of her thumb, then said,

"Any time today."

With a nod, the gun-wielding henchman stood over the screaming Henchman and put a bullet between his eyes.

_Well, there's one problem solved._

All was silent for a second, then Harley gave a little sadistic laugh like the tinkling of bells.

"I like you," she called to the tanned Henchman, "What's your name, Bozo?"

"D'Maccio," the man replied, looking up at her. Harley smirked at him, rolling the name on her tongue.

"Da-mashi-o. Nah, i'm just gonna keep callin' you Bozo, okies?"

The henchman shrugged in acceptance, adjusting the strap of his wife beater. _As long as i'm gettin' paid..._

Harley smiled at him and beckoned him upwards.

"You just got promoted, Bozo. Get your ass up here- we've got plans to make, chaos to cause... people to kill."

**AN: I'M BACK!**

** Thanks for your support, guys! Hope you liked this chapter, sorry it's a little shorter than usual. Harley's got her henchies, her right hand man... things can only get heavy from here on out!**

**Please R&R, see you all soon! xx**


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